


"Mine," he said

by what_a_dork_fish



Series: Cheriks [6]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Bottom Erik, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Top Charles, Waiter Charles, when the fuck is this set I don't know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 20:03:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10838418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_a_dork_fish/pseuds/what_a_dork_fish
Summary: Cathy was taking the order of the booth directly across. Charles went around behind her, holding the platter of food out of the—The American suddenly turned in his seat and stuck out his foot. Charles didn’t have time to avoid, he tripped, fell, lost his grip on the platter, and landed flat on his stomach, bracing for the impact of dishes on his head—But it never came.He looked up sharply, and gaped. The platter was held aloft by two knives, two spoons, and three forks bent at ninety degree angles, just… floating in midair.“Now, that wasn’t very nice,” said a calm voice with a hint of steel in its tone.





	"Mine," he said

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what I'm doing hELP

“Hey! We’ve been sitting here ten minutes, where’s our food?”

Charles smiled easily. “It’s almost ready,” he assured the scowling diners. “Would any of you like another drink?”

“No, we want our food!” the man in charge snapped. Charles skimmed his thoughts; he wasn’t really hungry, he just didn’t like Charles. He didn’t need to go any deeper than that.

“It’s almost ready,” he repeated, still smiling, and walked away.

Americans. So loud and entitled. He hated them. But he needed this job badly. No one was hiring genetics professors at the moment, not even one as promising as Charles. So he was stuck taking any job he could, just like Raven. He didn’t know how she did it. Every night he came home and gave her a hug and said thank you, because dear _god_ how had she managed so long? How was she _still_ managing? He was almost ready to go back to Tesco.

He spent time checking on his tables, then went back to the kitchen. An order was ready; he took it out with a sigh, then hitched on a pleasant expression. Wouldn’t do to be the single scowling server.

Cathy was taking the order of the booth directly across from the Americans. Charles went around behind her, holding the platter of food out of the—

The head American suddenly turned in his seat and stuck out his foot. Charles didn’t have time to avoid, he tripped, fell, lost his grip on the platter, and landed flat on his stomach, bracing for the impact of dishes on his head—

But it never came.

He looked up sharply, and gaped. The platter was held aloft by two knives, two spoons, and three forks bent at ninety degree angles, just… floating in midair.

“Now, that wasn’t very nice,” said a calm voice with a hint of steel in its tone.

Charles stood hurriedly, brushing himself off, and gingerly took hold of the platter. When he lifted it, the cutlery straightened out and floated back to the booth opposite the Americans. He turned, watching it, and swallowed hard when he saw the man who so casually grabbed the cutlery out of the air.

He seemed to be a little older than Charles, with a rectangular, severe kind of face and dark hair. He had nice square shoulders and nice hands and nice eyes and _he was a mutant_.

Charles looked at the other two in the booth, the blond woman sitting next to the handsome mutant and the devil-like man (obviously also a mutant) across from him. They both looked vaguely annoyed—but only vaguely.

“Quit showing off, Erik,” sighed the woman. “What do you want to eat?”

“Just a moment, Emma,” Erik replied, his eyes on the gaping Americans. “I want to know why they were so rude.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Emma muttered, rubbing her forehead. The devil man smirked. Cathy backed away slowly, and Charles made way for her, still clutching his platter of food.

“I—I—“ said the lead American.

Erik raised an eyebrow, with a dry, expectant expression. Charles wished desperately he could emulate such a look; it would be useful with students. “You…?” Erik prompted.

Emma suddenly turned her head and narrowed her eyes at the man, then leaned over and murmured in Erik’s ear. Both his eyebrows rose. “He was _taking too long_?” he said, as if he couldn’t believe his ears—well, ear. Charles automatically reached out to both the American and Emma; the former cowered from Erik, mind almost blank with fear and anger, and the latter’s eyes flicked to Charles.

_Hello_ , her voice said in his mind, and her lips curled into a slight smile. _I thought I was the only telepath in town_.

_So did I_ , Charles replied, surprised.

The American had stammered something, but Erik did not seem to find it satisfactory. He stood, showing that he was a lovely full six feet tall, and loomed over the whole table.

“If you’re not going to be polite to an overworked server, perhaps you shouldn’t be dining out,” he said in an almost friendly tone. “Maybe you should leave.”

“We don’t have to leave just because you said to!” the abusive man spat.

Erik suddenly grabbed his collar and yanked him out of his seat. The three other Americans gasped. Emma put her face in her hands. The devil-man clapped his hand over his mouth, shaking with suppressed laughter. Charles glanced around; literally every eye in the restaurant was on the drama unfolding before him.

“You don’t have to,” Erik growled, “But you’re going to.”

The American’s friends immediately stood, grabbed their compatriot, and dragged him to the door. He started shouting obscenities and threats, but he didn’t really fight them, so he probably didn’t mean a single word of it.

Charles almost slipped away then, but Erik turned and Charles was pinned down with that sharp blue gaze. Cathy escaped, though, and he cursed at her in his own head, that she would leave him to face this on his own.

“Are you alright?” Erik asked.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Charles answered politely. Then, because he had to, “You really didn’t need to do that.”

Erik shrugged. “He was rude,” he replied blandly. “I don’t like rude people.”

“Um…” Charles couldn’t think of an answer for that, which made this the second time in his whole life that he didn’t know the right thing to say. Carefully, he touched Erik’s mind, and found it very closed, very tightly bound. There was no way to figure out what he really wanted.

Emma spoke up. “That food’s getting cold. Leave him alone, Erik, kid’s got work to do.”

Erik glanced at her, surprised, then nodded and sat. Charles murmured something polite and escaped. But he could feel everyone watching him, the whole restaurant, and as he set plates in front of diners he sent out a single thought to everyone in the restaurant: _Everything is fine and nothing out of the ordinary just happened_.

_Oooh, neat trick_ , said Emma’s voice in his head. _I don’t suppose you’d tell me how you did it_.

He almost smiled, and sent to her, _If you can keep Erik from scaring anyone else, I’ll tell you after my shift_.

_Deal_.

The rest of the night passed without incident. Charles relaxed, managed to keep his easy smile, even as an old man made ridiculous claims about how his soup was so frigid it’d frozen the spoon. Well, two difficult customers in one day was alright. Not ideal, but alright.

Erik continued to watch him, covertly, and not constantly. Charles could ignore him. Once or twice he caught himself wanting to look back, but there was always something else to do.

It was only when the last customer had left that he sighed, smiled at Cathy, who was helping with clean-up, and turned—

And there were Erik, Emma, and the devil-man, only just standing and slipping on their coats, talking to each other quietly.

“You do it,” Cathy whispered, poking Charles’ arm. “You’re the mutant.”

“And you’re my superior,” Charles retorted quietly, poking her waist and making her jump and giggle. She was very ticklish. “ _You_ do it.”

“Yes, but what if I’m not sufficiently polite?”

Charles sighed. “He won’t throw you out just because you told him to leave at closing. Look, they’re leaving anyway.”

It was true, the trio was walking to the door. Charles frowned. “Did they pay?” he murmured to Cathy.

“Yeah,” she answered, “And the tall one, Erik, he said to tell you that they’ll be waiting for your shift to be over.”

Charles checked his watch. “I have another half hour.”

“Go tell them that, then.” Cathy glanced up when Charles hesitated, and scowled at him. “Go on. I’ll cover for you.”

So Charles went to the front and opened the door. The three mutants were indeed loitering outside, and all of them looked at him when he leaned out the door to tell them, “Cathy only just told me. I’m off in half an hour. You may want to just go home.” Which was sad, because he really was looking forward to a discussion with Emma. He hadn’t met another telepath in his twenty-four years on this planet.

The three looked at each other. Then the devil-man shrugged and said, “We’ve waited longer for less important people.”

Charles blinked, startled and slightly confused, but before he could ask what that meant, he felt his boss’s approach behind him. “Well, I’ll, I’ll see you in half an hour then,” he stammered, then whirled and ran straight into his boss.

Gerald didn’t like mutants. He didn’t know Charles was one, otherwise he would have thrown him out in a heartbeat. Oh, he let them in the restaurant, but that was because they made him money. And anti-discrimination laws still had not been passed that would protect mutant workers. When they did, Charles was determined to tell the world what he was.

But for now, he kept silent on it.

“Hello, sir,” he said, calming his mind and his face.

“Why aren’t you working?” Gerald barked.

Charles hesitated, then reached up with two fingers and rubbed his temple. “You know, I think I have a bit of a headache…” he said, as he insinuated himself into Gerald’s mind and delicately shifted a few things. _And you don’t care what I’ve been doing because you know I’m going back to work now._

Gerald blinked, frowned, shook his head, said, “Alright, go on then, I’ll deal with these ones.”

“Thank you sir,” Charles sighed, and slipped past him.

Half an hour later, Charles left Cathy to close and slipped out the front, reaching out with his mind… he felt them, standing in the shadows, and that’s why he didn’t jump when they stepped forward.

“I thought you’d gone by now,” Charles commented, unexpectedly pleased.

“Why would we?” Emma asked, amused. “I still want to know how you convinced all those people that nothing unusual had happened.”

“Oh, well, it’s…” Charles trailed off and frowned. Then he said, “I don’t know if it’s considered easy or not because I’ve been doing it since I was fourteen, but I… how many minds can you touch at a time?”

“About ten, and there were about thirty people in there, not counting staff.” Emma tilted her head, eyeing him critically. “You’re very strong, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” he replied quietly, not really looking her in the eye. Then he took a breath and made himself smile, the easy, friendly smile he’d perfected in grad school. “And if you could keep that to yourselves, that would be grand.”

“Why?” the devil-man asked, a slow, slightly scary smile stretching across his face. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. If you’re strong, you should be proud.”

“I can’t be proud if I’m dead,” Charles replied. “Tele—“

“Charles? Are you still going to walk me home?”

He turned, and smiled at Cathy, who was locking the front door and eyeing the four of them with interest. “Yes. We were just—discussing something.”

“Not your paper on genetics again,” Cathy sighed, then, to the three others, “He can’t take a hint when it comes to his field, so my advice is to just walk away.”

“Why?” Erik asked, but his eyes were on Charles and he looked rather thoughtful. “I’m very interested in genetics.”

Charles could _feel_ himself brighten, pathetically, like a child when someone mentioned his obsession. “You are? Excellent! Have you read—“

“ _Charles_ ,” Cathy groaned.

“Oh. Right. Well… goodbye,” he said to three other mutants. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Emma answered with a smile.

Charles smiled at the three of them, turned, and offered Cathy his arm. She took it and they walked away, occasionally bumping hips companionably.

Cathy was a beautiful woman. Several men took interest in her as they walked, but Charles discreetly touched his temple and they turned aside, puzzled as to why they had thought there was a woman with him. It wasn’t hard to simply make them not see her. It would’ve taken much longer and a lot more effort to untwist their minds so that they would see her as a human being worthy of respect and not just body parts, and it wouldn’t hold for longer than a day unless he did it three or four times. Cathy caught sight of a man eyeing her with a predatory glint, but even as she drew closer, recoiling, Charles met the fellow’s eyes and convinced him that all he saw was another young man walking alone down the street. The fellow blinked, frowned, shook his head, and kept walking.

Cathy looked up at Charles, and he smiled down at her.

“I’m not very physically intimidating,” he murmured, “But I can still deter them.”

She grinned back and hugged his arm tightly. “You are such a good friend,” she whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder. Charles felt a little glow of warmth in his chest.

They made it safely to her doorstep. She kissed his cheek, and he waited until she was inside before calling a taxi.

He got home a little later than usual. As he kicked off his shoes, he called, “Raveeen, who’s turn is it to cook?”

“Yours,” she replied in a raised voice, “And you’d better not set anything on fire!”

Charles winced and trotted into the living room. Raven was stretched out on the sofa, blue skin clashing slightly with her pink robe, reading a botany book. She lowered it to her chest and raised an eyebrow at him.

“You’re late, too,” she said dryly. “Were you walking Cathy home?”

“Yes, actually, I was.” Charles walked over and kissed her forehead lightly, grinning as she scowled. “Spaghetti?”

“Can you cook _anything_ other than spaghetti?” Raven challenged, exasperated.

“Of course. Instant oatmeal, instant potatoes, instant rice, those little steamer bags of vegetables you put in the microwave…” He laughed as she picked up the folded newspaper on the coffee table and threw it at him.

In the end Charles gave in and made miniature pizzas out of muffins, shredded cheese, and pizza sauce from a bottle. He almost burned them, too, reading the newspaper instead of watching the clock, but Raven cleared her throat pointedly and he remembered in a flash.

“You’d starve without me,” she muttered as they ate. “That or eat only burned toast.”

Charles flashed her a grateful smile.

They talked about their days. Raven told him that Hank, one of the students Charles had tutored, had asked her on a date, and she had accepted. Charles forced down a surge of protective instincts and smiled, saying he was happy she had a boyfriend finally.

“He’s not my boyfriend _yet_!” she protested, blushing a deeper blue, and Charles laughed.

“’Yet’ being the operative word there, yes?” he teased, smiling as she looked for something else to throw at him.

When they were both calmer, Charles told her about his day, not bothering to lie about or sidestep anything. When he was done, Raven nodded.

“He’s into you,” she said bluntly.

Charles snorted. “No he isn’t.”

“He is.”

“How do you know?”

“People don’t just threaten other people for being rude. Face it. He’s into you.”

Charles thought about it. Well, yes, it was true that if Erik did that for everyone he’d probably be in a lot of trouble by now. But still. “We hadn’t even spoken yet.”

“It’s quick, for some people.” Raven shrugged and leaned her head back with a sigh. “So now _you_ have a potential suitor as well.”

“Hey!” Charles protested, “I do not!”

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” Raven drawled.

“Halmet?”

“Correct.”

Charles shook his head. He wished Raven could get a job acting, but there simply weren’t any. Charles was being considered for a well-paying career that he enjoyed very much; Raven was still looking for something, anything, to get her out of the hell of waitressing.

Well, when Charles had the job, he was going to help pay for her education, and then she could get something she liked. They could always use their inheritance… but Raven insisted they save it. So save it they did.

“What are you thinking, Charles?” Raven asked warily.

He smiled tiredly. “That I should probably clean up and go to bed. I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.”

“You say that every night,” Raven commented, frowning worriedly. “Is something wrong?”

Charles stood and walked over to kiss her forehead again. “No. Nothing’s wrong. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

~

Charles wasn’t sure what he was expecting the next day, but it definitely wasn’t to see Emma, Erik, and the devil-man walk in just after the lunch rush. The hostess sat them in Charles’ area. He took a deep breath and walked over.

“Hello again,” he greeted them cheerfully. Then he accidentally met Erik’s eyes and his throat went all tight, though he managed to keep his smile.

“Hello,” Emma replied, amused for some reason. Probably seeing something she shouldn’t in his head. “I don’t think we were introduced properly. I’m Emma Frost, that’s Azazel, and this monster is Erik Lehnsherr.”

“Charles Xavier,” Charles introduced himself. “Can I start you all off with something to drink?”

“Xavier,” Erik murmured, staring at him hard. “You wrote that paper on genetic mutations.”

Charles felt heat creep into his cheeks. “Yes, that was me,” he admitted, then wondered at why he felt slightly abashed at the admittance. “I didn’t expect anyone but my fellow researchers to read it. Are you a—“

“ _Charles_ ,” Cathy hissed in his ear as she passed, making him jump.

“Ah—yes. Sorry. Would you like something to drink?”

He fetched their drinks, wanting to linger, but he was called away. Then he had to fetch orders. When he had a moment to breathe, he found himself wandering towards the three other mutants. They broke off their intense conversation, but they looked pleased to see him, not annoyed at his interruption.

Still. “I hope I’m not interrupting…” he trailed off, a little nervously. All three shook their heads.

“We were talking about your work,” Emma explained with a smile. “Erik here finds it particularly interesting.”

Erik shot her a dirty look. Raven’s words came back to Charles—‘He’s into you.’ Charles felt himself smile, not his pleasant customer-smile, but his enthusiasm-smile, named by Raven since it was apparently very different from his other smiles. But really, he did so love his chosen field.

“Really? Thank you! What do you think of Dr. Troy’s work? I know I cite her too much, but I love her processes.”

Erik turned out to be very well-informed when it came to the field of genetics, and Charles could have happily discussed with him for hours, but duty called, and he reluctantly broke off the conversation with a joking threat to return. Erik smiled and said, “I’m looking forward to it.”

Charles did his work with a little more cheer than usual, and some of it must have spilled over into an unintentional projection, because the whole restaurant seemed happier. Or maybe that was just him seeing through rose-tinted glasses. It had been a while since he’d spoken face-to-face with someone who could keep up with him. He wondered how good Erik was at chess. He hadn’t played anyone in years because he always won.

The next time he had a little break, he went immediately to Erik. Emma and Azazel stayed out of the conversation, watching with great amusement. The other diners seemed confused; maybe they weren’t used to their servers discussing advanced sciences with another diner. But it was fun. Even when Erik let slip that he thought some mutations superior to others, Charles decided not to make this wonderful conversation into a battle. He was a pacifist and optimist first, a debater second. And he didn’t want to start a fight at work.

Gerald caught them the third time Charles engaged Erik in conversation. Gerald actually grabbed Charles’ arm and began to drag him away, but then suddenly Erik was standing in Gerald’s way, frowning so thunderously that the older man paused.

“Excuse me,” Gerald said stiffly.

“Weren’t you ever taught manners?” Erik replied. “It’s rude to interrupt another’s conversation.”

“Erik, it’s fine,” Charles assured him hastily, “It’s my fault, I should have been watching the time.”

Erik continued to frown at Gerald, until the other was sweating profusely, then reluctantly sat back down. Gerald towed Charles away so fast Charles tripped on his own feet.

He withstood the berating calmly, and didn’t talk back. He was aware of the curiosity of the others, the pity, the smugness. He definitely deserved a dressing-down for ignoring some of his duties, but this was simply “wasting” _more_ time. He did not point this out.

“Now go clean your tables and think about what you did!” Gerald growled, pointing to the door of his office. Charles nodded and left.

He cleaned, he served, he carefully kept away from Erik. He had the sense he was being watched, by two people. One was Erik, and he was watching in a good way; the other… he had no idea, and he didn’t like it. So he was extra careful.

It made him sad when Emma asked for the bill. He brought it, of course, and he told himself he was not happy when Erik touched his arm and asked, “Coffee tomorrow?”

“Alright.”

Erik took a card out of his pocket and borrowed Charles’ pen to scribble a number on the back. “Call or text, doesn’t matter. And thank you.”

Charles smiled at him, and was rewarded with an answering smile. “You’re welcome.”

Emma and Azazel shooed Erik to the counter to pay the bill, both giving Charles sly looks. Emma even winked at him. But then they were gone, and Charles set about cleaning their table, humming to himself.

~

“I have a date tomorrow.”

“That’s nice,” Raven answered absently, focused on painting her toenails. Hank was coming to pick her up in two hours. She already had an outfit picked—but Charles had the feeling it would change at least twice before she was truly ready. That was alright. He was already nervous about _his_ date, wondering if a cardigan would be too old-man-looking, or maybe his grey hooded jacket? No, the blue one. And depending on the weather he might wear his blue scarf. What should he say? Oh god, what if Erik got tired of science? What if he wanted to talk about something like—like—books or movies or politics? No politics. Charles didn’t want to do politics on a first date. He wanted to get lost in those beautiful blue-grey eyes, not get into a debate.

Suddenly Raven looked up sharply. “Wait. You have a date.”

He smiled nervously.

“ _Charles_.”

“He’s very intelligent, and we share some interests, and he’s got the sharpest, most beautiful eyes, and—“

“Charles, tell me it’s not that guy from the restaurant.”

“His name is Erik,” Charles corrected, then blushed as Raven gaped at him. “Wh-what? You said yourself I need to get out more.”

“He was at the restaurant again today.” It was not a question, but Charles answered anyway.

“Yes. He and his friends. We talked about genetic mutations.”

Raven slowly capped her nail polish, clasped her hands around her knee, and sat up very straight. Then she stared at Charles for several moments. “You’ve talked to him twice, and one doesn’t even count because it was too short to be a real conversation,” she stated flatly. “Now you’re going on a date with him.”

“It’s just coffee,” Charles pointed out weakly. “You’ve dated people without really talking to them, too.”

“Because I _knew_ them from other people. I knew what they were like. You’re going on a blind date. You. With the crappy pickup lines and the inability not to talk about DNA and your old-man cardigans.”

“So jacket it is,” Charles sighed.

“Charles!”

“What!”

Raven took a breath, stopped, peered at him. He swallowed hard.

“…You’re nervous,” she stated.

There was no reason to lie. “Enough to have kittens.”

“Why, then?”

“Because I want to see if he knows chess.”

They stared at each other for several minutes. Raven snorted. The corner of Charles’ mouth twitched. Then they were both laughing, and hugging each other tightly, and if Charles cried a little, so what? It was tension-relief. He was allowed a few tears.

“Do you have a time?” Raven asked when they had finished laughing, her head tucked under Charles’ chin.

“I may have texted him on the bus ride home.”

“Don’t bring him home.”

“It’s coffee. It won’t take longer than an hour or two.”

Raven pulled back enough to give him a Look. He sighed heavily. “Alright, it might take longer than that. I won’t bring him home, though. I shall respect your wishes.”

“Good. Now, help me finish the rest of my toes, my back hurts. Now I remember why I only do this once every six months,” she grumbled, as Charles obediently slid off the couch to sit cross-legged on the floor and picked up the nail polish bottle.

She only changed outfits once. Then she primped and primed, but only a little. She was ready a full half-hour before Hank was due.

“You’re certain you’re not missing something?” Charles teased as they played checkers to pass the time. “You’ve never been ready this early before.”

Raven brooded at the board for a moment. “He said I’m beautiful naturally,” she said finally, moving a piece. “I think… Charles, I think he meant he thinks my other form is beautiful.”

Charles eyed her thoughtfully. She was in her usual blond form, hair curled softly, the barest minimum of makeup, in a dress that showed her curves. He didn’t need to touch her mind; he knew her too well. “You want him to think this is your best.”

She nodded slightly.

Charles moved a piece. “Raven, you’re beautiful no matter what you look like.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re my brother,” she muttered, slamming hers down a little too forcefully.

“No, I’m saying it because it’s true,” he replied patiently, and left an opening for her. She took it. He let her win, because she needed it. “You’re a beautiful woman, Raven. I’m going to keep repeating it, and I’m sure Hank will as well, until you believe it.”

She muttered something unflattering. She looked… unhappy. It hurt. Charles stood and walked around the table to hug her gently, careful of her hair. It took a lot of time and energy to get it to curl just so. She hugged back, tightly.

“You’re a bastard,” she whispered.

“I know,” Charles replied calmly, a hand on her head, thumb gently stroking her hair. “But I’m a _loveable_ bastard.”

She laughed at that, and sighed, the tension going out of her shoulders. “You really think I’m beautiful?”

“Inside and out, darling. No matter what you look like.”

“You’re still not allowed to bring that Erik guy home with you tomorrow.”

Charles rolled his eyes.

“You’re rolling your eyes again, aren’t you.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

There was a tentative knock at the door. Raven let go of Charles and stood, brushing her hair back from her face, calm and collected.

“Ready?” Charles asked, taking her hands in his.

“Ready,” she answered, smiling a little.

“Good. Have fun.”

~

The next day was nippy. Coffee had evolved into lunch at a nearby coffee shop; Charles fretted himself to flinders until Raven woke up around ten and forced him to calm down. She’d had a late night; fun, but late. She was going straight back to bed after he left. She threatened to go back to bed immediately, but instead helped him find an outfit (blue jumper over white button-up with his favorite blue scarf and corduroys) and brushed his hair for him, which always calmed him down. It was very strange.

But when he was calmer, she sat him down and gave the Psych Up speech that hadn’t been used in five years.

“You’re intelligent. You’re top of your class, top of your field. But you’re humble about it. You don’t like to brag. And yet you exude confidence. You’re hot, Charles, don’t forget that, either. Any man would be a fool to pass you up. You’re brave. You’re so brave you went and texted first. You’ve got the courage to make the first move, and the wisdom to know when the time is right for said move. You have this in the bag. He’s gonna want a second date ten minutes in. But you have the willpower to choose whether or not you do so. You’re strong, you’re smart, you’re brave. You can do it.”

Charles took a deep breath and nodded. “I can do it,” he repeated firmly.

Raven smiled. “That’s the spirit. Now go make him grovel.”

Charles laughed, kissed her forehead, and strode out of the flat.

When he reached the coffee shop, though, he was almost a nervous wreck again, picking at the skin around his nails, tugging at his cuffs, messing with his scarf. It had been five years since his last blind date, after all, which had ended in disaster when he read the man’s mind and found out he was only in it for the sex. Charles had made the mistake of attempting to cut the date short, which had resulted in a shouting match, which had caused both of them to be banned from that particular pub. Not that Charles cared. He hadn’t much liked it anyway.

Worrying wasn’t going to get him anywhere. It was only going to make him look like an idiot. He took a deep breath as he walked inside the coffee shop. He was strong, smart, and brave. He could do this.

Erik was already there with a piece of cake and a coffee, sitting at a table near a window, making his fork hover an inch or so off the table. Charles’ throat tightened.

He couldn’t do this.

He went to the counter and ordered tea and a panini. Then he went to Erik’s table, and felt himself smile when Erik looked up and brightened.

“You’re early,” he admonished Erik as he sat across from him.

“So are you,” Erik replied. Then he almost blurted, “We never finished our conversation on color variances.”

Charles smiled further, relieved that there would be no awkward silence. “No. Well, I still believe it was more a matter of personal preferences becoming a societal norm.”

“And I still maintain that it had more to do with the climate.”

They talked about science for much longer than Charles thought should be considered healthy, before they realized they both enjoyed Oscar Wilde, although for completely different reasons. This drew them into a debate that started out with the potential to be heated—but Erik said something unexpected that made Charles laugh, and the debate became an amiable disagreement.

They talked about other authors, too, and books and plays, and types of literature. They dipped into political satire, but they were in agreement on everything there, so they passed it by. Charles was surprised to find his tea bitter and cold, and his panini rather unappetizing. But he ate and drank anyway while Erik recited some poems he’d memorized. Then Charles returned the favor, blushing faintly as Erik put his chin in his hand and listened instead of eating his cake.

“You have a nice voice,” Erik commented.

Charles truly blushed now, and offered a smile. “Thank you. I’m hoping, once I’ve been a teacher for a while, I can go on a lecture tour. Not a big one, of course; just to some other colleges and universities.”

“What are you teaching?”

“It’s more of a what _will_ I be teaching.” His smile faltered, then returned. “Genetics, of course. Or biophysics. I have a PhD in both.”

Erik’s eyebrow rose. “How old are you?” he asked.

“I’m twenty-four. How about you?”

“Twenty-eight. How did you get two PhDs at your age?”

“Oh, well, it took quite a lot of midnight oil.” Charles shrugged, feeling rather uncomfortable with this line of questioning. And Erik seemed to sense that, because he nodded and changed the subject.

When Charles finally glanced at his watch, remembering Raven’s words, he saw that it had been four hours. “Oh,” he said.

“Hm?” Erik responded.

“It’s 3:15.”

Erik stared at him for a moment, then checked his own watch. “Oh,” he echoed.

“Do… do you have somewhere you need to be?” Charles asked, a little nervously.

Erik smiled. “No.”

“Oh, good. I mean—I mean it’d be a shame if you had to leave. No, I mean—oh dear, this isn’t coming out right at all,” he muttered, blushing furiously, looking anywhere but at Erik.

“Charles. It’s fine.” Erik put his hand over Charles’, lightly, and Charles found himself smiling shyly.

They left, but only to walk down the street, talking about… anything. Everything. Somehow Charles found himself telling Erik about Raven, about how strong she was, about how wonderful she was, about their childhood. Erik told him about Emma and Azazel, how the three of them and their friend Riptide had been raised in the same orphanage; his memories of his time there were scant, but it had been adequate. Charles was excellent at reading expressions and body language as well as minds, and he saw that Erik was lying. But like hell was Charles going to ruin this date by prying.

He found himself walking very close to Erik. But it wasn’t entirely his fault, because Erik seemed to swerve closer as well. His smile was so wide. His teeth were large and sharp, but that didn’t subtract from the fact that his smile was because of Charles. Charles himself smiled back, mesmerized and completely alright with that.

They passed a shop Charles was familiar with, and he stopped Erik with a hand on his arm.

“Do you play chess?” Charles asked.

Erik smiled. “As often as I can. What are you scheming?” he replied teasingly.

“It’s just that this shop sells excellent chess sets, and the park has these nice tables set up by the pond…”

Erik took his hand and pulled him inside. Charles went willingly.

They decided on a painted wooden set, and Erik insisted on buying it. Charles didn’t argue very hard, mostly because the determination on Erik’s face was rather sweet. Then they went to the park, and set up the board. Charles decided to go easy on Erik.

But Erik was good. _Very_ good. And Charles was a competitive player. So soon they were battling fiercely, and when Erik won, Charles smiled.

“Well, that was the first time in a long while that I haven’t lost on purpose,” he murmured.

Erik’s eyebrows rose, and he smirked. “You mean that was the best you can do?” he teased.

“Bring it, old man.”

Erik’s chuckle was as good as a laugh, and that made Charles feel warm inside.

They played until dusk, banter never forced. Erik insisted on taking Charles to dinner, and Charles said yes without having to think. He fired off a quick text to Raven saying she’d have to fend for herself that evening, tucked his phone in his pocket, and forgot about it.

Erik chose a little sushi bar Charles had never visited before. It smelled and looked clean and fresh, though there weren’t very many people there; a hidden gem, perhaps? They greeted the chef, Erik more heartily than Charles, and took their seats.

It was the best sushi Charles had ever had, and he made sure to tell the chef that. Erik simply smirked.

They left just as cheerfully as they had entered, and Charles tried not to blush as Erik took his hand, weaving their fingers together. He didn’t manage. And it was late enough, nobody saw. Charles was still getting the hang of this “homosexuality is legal now but mutants are not” thing, as was most of the population—but he couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy the former half of that statement.

“May I walk you home?” Erik asked gravely.

“Only if you kiss me,” Charles replied, just as soberly.

“I can do more than kiss, if you like,” Erik murmured, with a hint of a growl that sent shivers up and down Charles’ spine. He wanted to say “god yes please” but there was Raven to consider. So he shook his head regretfully.

“My sister’s home,” he explained, reluctant to let go of this, but feeling that he had to. “She might be upset.”

“How old is your sister?”

“Um… we think she’s twenty-two.”

Erik’s eyebrows rose. “You _think_?”

“She was abandoned, so she doesn’t know when her birthday is.”

Erik took this in stride, then said, with a sly glance, “Surely she’s old enough to be kicked out of the house for half an hour, isn’t she?”

Lately, Charles’ only conquests had lasted fifteen minutes or less. But half an hour… oh, the things he could do to Erik in half an hour, make him open up, make him cry out, make him moan Charles’ name…

“Um.” He cleared his throat, and tried not to walk oddly just because of a semi. Erik smirked. “Yes, I… I think she can head over to her boyfriend’s place for a bit. If I explain to her.”

“Excellent.”

They walked slowly to Charles and Raven’s flat, wanting to save their energy (and wasn’t that a pleasant thought). It didn’t stop Charles’ pulse from rising. He expected a tussle; not many people thought he’d be a top, him being so short, but his lovers had all understood. And Erik just _felt_ like a top.

Charles did a general pass over Erik’s mind, and smiled. Erik was nearly shouting the need to fuck, and fuck hard. Well, Charles wouldn’t mind giving it to him.

They arrived and Charles unlocked the door, not giving way a single inch as Erick crowded up behind him. It felt good, Erik blocking the cold breeze, his hands on Charles’ hips, his mouth… he nipped Charles’ neck and chuckled as Charles gasped.

Just as Charles was about to turn the knob, the door flew open, and Raven stood there, gazing disapprovingly at them both.

“Hank called,” she informed Charles. “He wants to go to a midnight movie with me. I accepted.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Charles replied inanely, most of his attention on the hardening of Erik’s cock against his backside.

Raven snorted and jammed on her hat. Charles and Erik edged out of the way, and she slid past them, and then Erik was pushing Charles inside and closing the door behind them. Charles kicked off his shoes and helped Erik out of his jacket, running his hands down Erik’s arms and feeling hard muscles there, smiling as Erik just left the jacket crumpled on the floor. Then he let out a quiet yelp as Erik tore off Charles’ scarf and yanked his sweater up over his head. Charles outright laughed at that, and drew Erik further into the flat. He’d rather not have sex in the hall.

Gay sex may have been “illegal” until recently, but that didn’t stop it from happening, and Charles had quite a few tricks up his sleeve. He towed Erik through the flat, both of them leaving a trail of clothing, until they crashed into Charles’ room in nothing but their underwear. Erik allowed Charles to shove him onto the bed, and even let him crawl up on top; but the moment Charles kissed him, he knew there was going to be a fight.

Erik tasted like sushi and saké and a trace of metal. His teeth were sharp and his tongue demanding. Charles moaned into Erik’s mouth, smirking as he felt Erik jerk restlessly underneath him. Carefully (because sometimes when he was horny his control suffered) he sent Erik images of all the things he was planning to do to him.

Erik groaned, and the surge of lust and excitement and acceptance made Charles lightheaded. Then of course Erik flipped him over, pinned his wrists, and began to bite and suck on his neck. Charles laughed.

“Not gonna make it easy, hmm?” he panted, pressing his knee delicately against Erik’s groin.

Erik shook his head, then lifted it and grinned down at Charles. “Never will.”

The implication that they would do this again—the images in Erik’s mind, of fucking and being fucked—the _certainty_ in his mind that this would not be the last time they saw each other—it was dizzyingly wonderful. Charles laughed again, and tilted his head, inviting Erik to continue his assault on Charles’ neck.

They wrestled and tussled and Charles soon learned that Erik never made anything easy. This was equal parts refreshing and frustrating, which just made him want to fuck even more. Finally, he won the fight by flipping Erik onto his back and sliding down him to kiss and lick that infuriatingly beautiful cock. Erik, surprisingly, moaned and went limp. Charles ran his tongue along the shaft, drawing sharp gasps and soft little whimpers, and when Erik had almost melted, Charles stopped and scrambled for the lube and condoms. Erik actually _whined_ , grabbed Charles’ waist, but the other had already taken his position between Erik’s legs.

“Facing me or away?” he asked lightly.

Erik laughed, a little breathlessly. “You demon, quit with the fake politeness,” he rasped.

Charles grinned, and began to send Erik images to match his words. “Alright. I’m going to take you like this, and when you’re rested I’ll take you the other way, and then I’ll suck you off—“

“Oh christ, stop that and just fuck me!”

It was Charles’ turn to laugh.

One finger made Erik whimper. Two made him moan. Three made him gasp and try to push himself further down on Charles’ fingers, try to take in more. Charles was thrilled, to say the least, and his cock was aching by the time he slid into Erik, pressing as deep as he could. Erik closed his eyes and focused on breathing, as Charles started a steady rhythm, slow and deep, and then speeding up, because christ Erik was perfect, not too loose, not too tight, hot, so hot, and the lube made him so slick and he was making the cutest little noises and Charles grabbed his cock and stroked and thrust for what felt like an ecstatic eternity and suddenly Erik was coming and tightening hard around Charles who had to follow with a groan.

They stayed like that, panting, for a little while.

Then Charles slid out, and began the process of cleaning up. Erik watched with hooded eyes and the tiniest smirk. Probably used to doing clean-up himself. Well, Charles mused as he carefully wiped Erik with a warm flannel, Charles liked taking care of his partners. So this was alright.

Erik grinned when Charles glanced up at his face, and raised his hand to stroke his knuckles gently against Charles’ jaw. “So,” he murmured, “Are you really going to suck me off?”

“I’ll do anything you want as long as you’re here,” Charles whispered, and kissed him.

~

He did, indeed, suck Erik off. Erik then insisted on returning the favor, which Charles accepted graciously. (He would forever swear that he did _not_ keen and whimper and generally act like a fool just because of Erik’s tongue. That filthy, filthy tongue.)

They showered together, chastely, with perhaps a few soft kisses. Erik groped Charles’ backside, but he just laughed and let him. Charles did blush when Erik kissed his cheek and murmured, “May I spend the night?”

Charles just nodded.

When they were clean, they dried off and Erik helped Charles change his bedsheets. Then they slid into bed together and huddled close, Erik wrapping Charles in his arms, their legs tangled together.

Charles felt Erik slip into sleep before him, and smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to Erik’s collarbone in that spot he liked so much. Tomorrow they might discover something impossible to overcome, something that would kill this budding romance, but in that moment, reckless with tiredness and satisfaction and the glow of a wonderful day, Charles decided he was in love.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments = Life, Love, and Happiness.
> 
> *throws glitter in the air*


End file.
